Repartee
by Minerva32
Summary: A duel of pride between Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy. The question is: How do you hate someone when you can't help but respect them as an equal?
1. The Reception

I do not own Harry Potter… Shit!

M32

She studied the groom intensely.

He was handsome. She could give him that.

But only that.

"A toast!"

Bellatrix looked up, and rolled her eyes with a groan. It was that idiot, Goyle. How appropriate. An idiot to toast a wedding of idiots.

He stood by the table of the bride and groom, more than intoxicated, and swaying on his great, brutish feet. "A toast to the newly wed Malfoys!"

Bellatrix turned her heavy gaze to her sister. The girl was glowing with pleasure. It made Bellatrix retch. Pretty little Cissy. Always the favorite, the pet, the unstained angel. The only black who could wear white and get away with it. Like that wedding gown. Oh, sweet Voldemort it was enough to make her ill! Bellatrix's thoughts turned to her Lord and Master. What she wouldn't give to be torturing some mudbloods right now.

The idea of the screaming gave her a pleasant smile as Goyle's toast went on.

"Now, don't get too ambitious, Lucius." Goyle drunkenly teased, much to the amusement of the death eaters present, excluding the newlyweds. "Just because you've married into the House of Black doesn't mean you're a Black yourself!"

"The Dark Lord forbid." Bellatrix muttered to herself, feeling that some firewhiskey was in order.

"I assure you that House Malfoy has no need to bow to the House of Black." Came the crisp, oily voice of Lucius Malfoy.

The ladle in Bellatrix's hand slipped back into the punch bowl.

_What did he just say? _

She wheeled around to see Lucius standing, Narcissa squirming uncomfortably beside him. "After all," He said, meeting the blackness of Bellatrix's gaze. "Is it not the Malfoys who are saving the Blacks from ruin?" He laughed, but the hall was silent. They were afraid of the murder in the eyes of Bellatrix Black.

Malfoy met her gaze and his complexion paled, if possible. Even he knew that Bellatrix Black was not a witch to be insulted, especially when it involved her long and noble lineage. Her eyes, though dark as night, flashed with open thoughts of green. Malfoy's hand went noticeably to his wand, but when Cissy made a small noise of fear, Bellatrix bit her tongue and turned, keeping her expression as a warning. No good to kill her sister's miserable coward of a husband. No doubt she would have that pleasure as a special task from the Dark Lord in the future. Lucius Malfoy would not do her Lord the service he deserved, and therefore he would eventually die. She made a mental note to ask her Lord permission to take that pleasure.

"Already like a family!" Goyle roared before falling promptly unconscious, breaking the tension and the silence with laughter. Lucius snapped something and a miserable looking house elf dragged the unconscious body to a guest room.

Bellatrix caressed the surface of her wand, wanting to at least do a little damage to her brother in law for his insolence. Perhaps later.

Her sensuous red lips curled into a smile.

Yes, later.

And then he would see what happened when you trifled with a Black.


	2. The Challenge

Lucius Malfoy stirred fitfully in his sleep. He was dreaming, dreaming of snakes and signs and masks. He dreamed he knelt before a man with eyes like blood and skin like snow. Bellatrix was there. She laughed and called him her brother, then exclaimed "Crucio!" and laughed harder as he writhed in agony on the floor. He felt as though he had screamed and struggled for hours when the pain was finally relieved. She knelt and drew him into her lap as though she was his mother and not his tormentor, and kissed the sensitive skin of his left forearm with her moist, blood-red lips. His arm burned like fire until a mark appeared. A dark mark…

He sat up in bed, cold sweat dripping down his naked body.

Bellatrix Black. The Dark Mark. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…

Malfoy did not believe in Prophesy, but he believed in the power of persuasion. And slowly but surely, he was being persuaded into becoming a member of the Dark Lord's Army.

He had avoided the call until now. All of his friends and acquaintances had accepted the call, and he alone waited. He wanted to be certain he was a part of the winning side. For while he wholeheartedly supported the eventual extermination of the mudbloods, he knew the consequences of failure. And consequences were not something Lucius Malfoy dealt with much.

He steadied his breathing and looked over at the sleeping form of his wife, her pale and exposed back elegantly curving until it disappeared beneath the sheets. He was glad he had not awakened her. She was a fine wife, and a suitable wife. He admired her, respected her, enjoyed her company. Not to mention the fact that she was exquisitely beautiful and he desired her as was to be expected. He did not love her. She was his partner. No more. Perhaps someday she would become more, but not yet.

He slid from between the satin sheets and threw on a robe of black satin. He was troubled and sitting still in bed would not conquer his restlessness. His mind seemed to echo with a snake's hissing that penetrated his thoughts and make him wander, wander as a man wanders when he is in search of something, something hard to find but existing in his own flesh.

Would he become a death eater? His time was running out.

He headed down the sweeping staircase of the manor, his quilted slippers scuffing on the steps, but when he reached the bottom step he stopped in confusion.

Someone had lit a fire in the drawing room.

Lucius looked around the foyer for his walking staff, which doubled as an instrument of punishment. His wand lay on the bedside table upstairs.

"I'll beat the senses out of that house elf." He angrily muttered to himself, striding into the room.

But Doby was not who he found there.

Sitting on the floor, curled up with a fire poker like a common servant before the fire, was Bellatrix Black.

Lucius was not deceived by her demure positioning. Bellatrix tapped her wand musingly to her lips, with the expression of a woman choosing between lilies or roses, though Lucius knew she was choosing between Imperiusing him into roasting his own limbs in the fire, or Crucioing him until he wept for her mercy. She looked up at him with her onyx eyes and smiled like a cobra to a mouse. "Good evening, dear brother."

Lucius couldn't help but shiver at the reminder of the dream. "Bellatrix. To what do I owe the pleasure of this…uniquely timed visit?"

Lucius was terrified of her, to be sure. But something about her stirred him strangely. Merlin, she was beautiful. Not beautiful like Narcissa, who was like a Grecian statue in winter, beautiful, cold, and aloof, no, Bellatrix was alive. She had a predatory gleam in her eyes, firelight in her hair, and passion in her body. Where Narcissa was ice, her sister blazed like a forest fire. Wild. Incredible.

Completely out of control.

She rose smoothly to her feet, and Lucius realized how short she was, especially compared to her sister, who almost matched his own six feet. She looked up at him calmly, smiling with her lips but snarling with her eyes.

"Can't a woman visit her own family? Besides, it is not that late, Lucius. We are creatures of night, are we not?"

Lucius felt a desperate longing for his wand.

Bellatrix knew his thoughts as he nervously flexed his long fingers. Her eyes narrowed. "What is the matter, dear brother? Don't you trust your own _kin_?" She pointed her wand down at him, straight between his eyes.

"Muffliato." She intoned.

Lucius dove toward her in a panic, but she sidestepped him with the ease of practice. "Bellatrix, NO!"

"Crucio."

There it was, the pain like a thousand hot knives, peeling the skin from his muscles, ripping the flesh from his bones, crushing the tissues inside his skull.

He screamed and twisted, doubling himself up against the pain, though he knew it didn't make any difference. He thought of the muffling spell, preventing Narcissa from waking, and suddenly he felt a surge of hatred for his bride, sleeping soundly as he suffered…

Then abruptly the pain stopped. The only sound was his tortured breathing as he came back to reality. He was looking at a pair of red stilettos that fit on dark, shapely legs that disappeared into the red skirt of her gown. Lucius realized suddenly that she had not changed from the wedding reception.

"Stand, Malfoy."

He obeyed, struggling, and met her wicked gaze.

"Feeling different about the ancient house of Black, are we?" She said softly, daring him to suggest otherwise.

Lucius looked down at her. He had not seen her very closely at the ceremony or the celebration that followed. Bellatrix had made herself known, but took no pains to speak to the happy couple, only doing what was required of her. She had no love for her sister. She had no love for anyone. That Lucius could understand. Her hair was loose now, she had most likely let it down while enjoying the spectacle of her vengeance, and it flowed like black water around her face. She was like the antithesis of Narcissa. Where his wife was thin, she was strong and curved the way a woman of thirty should be, and she was dark as Narcissa was fair. Her eyes were heavy and thickly lashed where Narcissa had pale lashes over her light, icy blue eyes, and the power with which she carried herself, in Merlin's name…

Lucius felt numb with shock, realizing how strangely alike he and this woman were, no matter how different they appeared.

"Tell me Bellatrix Black Lestrange. Have you ever loved?"


	3. The Duel

Bellatrix was shocked, stunned, shaken to the core.

"Have I…Have I ever…" She stuttered, stumbling, then composed herself completely. She drew herself up to her full height. "Love for the Dark Lord is the only love I have room for."

"And what of Rodolphus?"

Bellatrix was surprised to actually hear herself snort. "Rodolphus? That empty headed numbskull? I won't even let him bed me, let alone love him! What nonsense! I thought you a better man, Lucius, than to ask me such mindless questions!"

"Did you, now…" Lucius muttered, strangely preoccupied.

Bellatrix returned her focus to him, suspicious as he seemed lost in thought. "Unless, you mean to turn my mind from why I came here…"

Lucius' eyes widened with fear as she raised her wand. "Please, I beg you-"  
"Shut up, damn it! Crucio!" She roared.

She watched with mild interest as Malfoy performed another macabre display of anguish on his rug, but now she too was pensive. How strangely he had looked at her when she said she held no love but for the Dark Lord. Strange because it wasn't a look of unease or even a common tie, but a look that said something else, something she had no knowledge of…

"Enough." She said with a flick of her wand, leaving her brother in law gasping on the floor.

"Stand, Lucius." She ordered hollowly. "And tell me why you speak of…love."

He stood, seizing his staff for support, which had rolled away from him as he had been tortured.

"You do not… believe in… love?" He choked, closing his eyes as he fought a sudden onset of dizziness. "It is my wedding day…" He chuckled with the rasp of a man dying. "…and I do not believe in it either."

Bellatrix looked at him. She could have sworn he loved Cissy. Everyone loved her. Except Bellatrix, of course.

She bent down, pushing up on his shoulders so that he stood tall again, for he had been weary with pain. "You do not love my sister?" She asked, quietly.

Lucius looked at her sharply, fearing he had earned another Cruciatus curse, but saw in her eyes that it was not so. Slowly, he shook his head.

"No. I do not."

Bellatrix was not quite sure was this feeling was inside her. It was unusual, like confusion, mixed with elation, mixed with fear.

"You do not…" She repeated in the barest of whispers.

Lucius looked at her, and took her smooth chin in his hand. "Do you know what I do believe in, Bella?"

Taken aback by the sudden change of atmosphere, Bellatrix shook her head like a young girl, made speechless by the combination of the warmth of his hand on her skin, and the use of her childhood name. Cissy must have called her that when she spoke to Lucius of her family. No one had dared call Bellatrix by a nickname in years.

Lucius gripped her waist to steady himself and locked his mint green eyes with hers. "Power." he said, gaze glittering with avarice.

Bellatrix stared at him. It didn't occur to her that he dared touch her, dared to pretend himself close enough to her that he could call her by an old pet name. He had said the magic word, the _true_ magic word, the one that kept even her Lord and Master in its sway.

"Power." She repeated, twisting her hands in the white blonde silk of his hair. "Yes, Yessss." She hissed, arching against him with delight at the thought. "Power is something I believe in!"

Lucius caught her in his arms, pressing her close against him and running his fingers through the ebony curtain of her hair.

"Yes, my Bella." He said, breathing in the scent of her, so foreign and sultry and like a _woman_, not a girl like Narcissa! "You and I know what power is. We have tasted it…" He remembered suddenly the dream and pulled away from her to look into her black eyes. "And that is why I must join your order. I will serve the Dark Lord as my master!"

She smiled, a smile brilliant as though he were her lover proposing their wedding day. Her eyes filled with tears and she buried her face in his chest. "Then you truly are my brother!"

That phrase uttered by her own lips returned her grip on reality. She looked up at Lucius, saw the desire in his gaze, and felt his arms tight about her waist, pulling her closer.

"My brother…" She whispered in horror.

"Bellatrix…" Lucius murmured, his voice low and soothing like a snake charmer's flute. "Do not fight it. It is what we are. We are creatures of night, you said it yourself…"

"But you are my brother in law! A married man! Married to _my sister!_"

"Whom you have no love for, nor do I." He replied, simply as he backed her up, struggling, against the wall.

Bellatrix fought to twist her wand to aim at him, but in the effort it slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. Seeing his chance, Lucius kicked it so that it rolled out of sight beneath a cabinet.

Bellatrix's eyes grew large in terror. Without her wand, she was powerless.

A woman, not a witch.

Lucius grinned in triumph, leaning in close to his prey. "Do not fight me, Bella, my sweet. It is meant for us to do this…"

"Do this?" Bellatrix mimicked, with a hint of hysteria. "You forget that I am a married woman? What of Rodolphus? Your comrade? Your friend?"

"Rodolphus is no friend of mine." Lucius growled, gazing at the ample swell of Bellatrix's breast. "And you scorned him your love, so I do him no disservice."

He came closer, breathing his sweet breath in her ear, tracing it with his tongue. Bellatrix swooned silently, still unwilling to give in. By the Dark Lord's name, nothing had ever felt like this, why had Rodolphus never pleased her like this, even when he tried? Why did it have to be this wretch, this Malfoy…

He knees weakened and she sank in his embrace, beginning to tremble.

She had made love before. Not to her husband, no. Rodolphus knew Bella had lain with another, but he wedded her anyway, knowing he did so as a service to the Dark Lord. Long ago, when Voldemort had sought the paths of old magic, magic extending back to the Druids, he had required a female consort, virgin, willing to give herself to his means. Naturally Bellatrix, who had already proven herself so useful to her master, would be chosen. Bellatrix looked back on that night, when there had been a full moon. It was unreal, frightening. Though she adored her master she was afraid of him, because she had never known a man before, and he was cruel. He was rough, and though it was bliss to be that close with her Lord it had taken her ages to recover from the pain and the wounds he had made in her body with his roughness. She hadn't thought it very important, only a service to the Dark Lord. She hadn't been new to pain at the time, and she was happy because she was useful, and the magic they had summoned upon that night made her Lord stronger and more terrible than ever. She had not considered sex much afterwards, and distained her husband Rodolphus, refusing his entreaties because, quite simply, she had no interest. Not just in him, but in the subject at all. It was a base nature, nothing more, nothing a civilized witch couldn't perfectly ignore.

Or at least, so she had thought.

Until the warm flesh of Lucius Malfoy pressed upon her own.

"What if Cissy hears?" Was her last, tremulous protest.

"You muffled the room, my darling." Lucius returned, dancing his long fingers over the nape of her neck. "Narcissa will not hear us."

It was as though the voice that Bellatrix heard was not her own, though it came from her own mouth. "Kiss me then, Lucius, you bastard, before I lose my nerve."

Author's Note:

So.. I love Bellatrix and Lucius dearly, but if you haven't noticed there is no plot to this story other than romantic setup and tension, so if you don't like lemons and you came here for a good, rousing plotline, go somewhere else now! The next chapter will be a beautiful juicy lemon, and if you don't like it TOO BAD. I love my readers, ardently, ardently, but I shall not be moved.

With all my fondness,

M32


	4. The Truce

She had never realized how fevered the body could become, how fast blood could pound, how high a thrill could be reached without destruction.

"It's like death." She whispered.

Lucius paused, "Like death?" He echoed, the fingers languidly unlacing the back of her gown stopping cold. He drew away, gently, by no means discouraging progress, but curious. "What do you mean?"

Bellatrix bent back her body against him, luxuriously stretching so that the longing in him burst into conflagration, pulling back the flowing scarlet sleeve of her left arm to reveal the inked stain of the dark mark.

"Look at it, Lucius." She rasped. "Is it not beautiful?"

Lucius stared at her, unable to find words or even breath to speak them.

"It is the ultimate beauty." She cooed, reaching up with the same left hand to stroke the sophisticated angle of his jaw. "The only power no mortal being can escape. No witch. No wizard. Death is that darkness that takes hold of us and consumes us with its sweetness… A dark, perilous sweetness…" Her tongue danced with his and Lucius subconsciously drew her back into his arms as she curled around him. She broke the kiss abruptly, just for an instant. Her dark eyes were large and trembled on the edge of insanity. "Is it not unlike what we do tonight, my Lucius?"

Lucius gazed at her for a moment, thoughtful. Her hair was wild and frazzled from their previous battle and the tangling of his fingers in it, and her eyes were deep, so deep and yet so unrevealing of what she was really thinking. And her mouth was no better, her unusually full, distracting lips set in an unyielding line. She was so dangerous, Bellatrix Black…

"A perilous sweetness…" He mused, idly teasing at the neckline of her gown. "Yes, I think I understand…" They were distracted for a time, until Lucius gathered his will and nervelessly asked, "How many men have you murdered, Bellatrix?"

She stood still, hesitating. "More than I can even remember." She said finally, somberly.

Lucius felt a chill of ice run down his spine, and he kissed her to melt it.

And suddenly she was a woman again, not a death eater, and not the angel of omen from his dreams. She was a woman quaking and languishing in his arms, a woman longing for something more in her life. Something only he could give her. Something he would give her.

"Bella…" He murmured to her, in one swift motion unhinging the back if her dress so that it shivered to the floor.

Bellatrix shuddered at the sudden onslaught of the cold, and pressed her vulnerable form to Lucius' own, burying herself in the warmth, the smell, the feel of him. "Take me to the fire." She begged, closing her eyes in submission.

Lucius took her with long steps, laying her down alongside the flames, the glow of the hearth casting an orange glow over her tan body.

Lucius gazed at her with a rush of hunger. _This _was a woman, a woman of flesh and skin and muscle, not ice and bone. Bellatrix Black was all he could desire.

She looked up at him, coyly, purring like a lioness. "Now, this isn't fair, my Lucius. Here you are having all of me to see as you like… And I…" Her agile fingers threw open the sash to his robe and dug into his back. "I have nothing."

Lucius closed his eyes as her hands crept over his body, exploring, taunting. The things this woman did to him were incredible, it made Narcissa seem like a child…

"Enough, Bella." He said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I cannot stand this any longer."

"Lucius…" She whispered, holding him close. "I think I know what you mean." And then she muttered in a voice lower that darkness and sweeter than cream, "_Nox._"

The fire was swept out of the grate as though by the wind, and the lovers were cast into darkness.

**Authors Note:**

Mmmkay. So. I lied. I actually got a better idea and chose to take the clean route. If I choose to write an M rated version of this story, I'll let you know, but I have purpose for this story that mindless sex would erase. Seduction is more interesting anyway, meh? Read on to see what happens next in my master plot! Mwahahahaha!

With all my love,

M32


	5. The Price

_Six months later…_

Darkness pervaded here, hanging heavy on the air with the choking dust of the feel of stale death. Bellatrix stood at the center of the circle, tall, knowing that of all the Death Eaters present, she was the finest, Lady Death, second only to the master. Her hair hung wild, whipped by the wind from the broom rides across the countryside. They'd gone from house to house, slaughtering all resistance, dancing to the sound of the screaming. It had been a successful night for the Dark Lord. He would have sweet words for her this night.

A damp wind stirred the brittle graveyard grass, and the other Death Eaters hung back, knowing that this night belonged to Bellatrix, and to intrude on her glory would earn an unhesitant death sentence. A hot gust suddenly clove through the air, throwing Bellatrix's robes into a billow around her body. She threw herself onto her knees in a fluid motion, as though her joints had gone out. They almost had. The Dark Lord was near.

She put her right hand on the ground, bowing until her nose brushed the fresh dirt of a new grave. She was a loyal follower. Tonight, she would receive her reward.

A mist formed before her, drawing into itself in black tendrils that slowly wove together to form a figure. Bellatrix watched as the hem of swirling onyx robes formed beneath her lips. Ever eager to oblige, she fell to kissing it worshipfully.

A voice that grated like steel and fresh blood hissed from up above her. "Rise, daughter. Meet the eyes of your master."

Trembling from the honor, she obeyed, meeting the scarlet flared eyes that leaked power like a tainted fountain.

"Yes, Master." She breathed, as his breath filled her mouth, bitter and exhilarating.

"You are truly an asset, my Bellatrix. The most loyal of my little band."He swept his wand over the surrounding crowd, some of whom cowered for fear he was musing to harm.

Bellatrix laughed coldly at their fear, and the eyes swept back to lock hers. The red reflection danced off the dark surface of her eyes as if it lived inside of her. "Do you mock me, Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"No, Master." she replied, without a trace of fear. "To be tortured by you would be an honor. Any touch of your magic would be an honor. The ones who shake at the thought are cowards."

A smile curved his thin, dead lips. "A wise answer, my child. The Dark Lord rewards the loyal."

She shook with pleasure at the praise. "Thank you, my Lord." She said with a deep, elegant curtsy.

The Dark Lord laughed, a harsh, croaking sound, drawn from decaying lungs.

Bellatrix raised her eyes once more, confused.

"The only woman. The only woman amongst my men and I. And yet she puts you all to shame. I say, Amycus."

A tall, sallow Death Eater raised his hollow eyes in anxiety. The Dark Lord caressed his wand with his bleached, spectral fingers. "Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps it is women I need at my service, not cowering men that cannot live to my example. I have changed my mind about Alecto. Let her become one of us. If she is cruel enough, she will survive." Those same fingers encircled Bellatrix's chin, and she almost fainted. "Cruel and beautiful as my Bella."

He laughed again, uproariously, and Bellatrix started at the name. It awakened the other side of her. The woman. Lucius' lover. Narcissa's sister. Suddenly the evening's carnage played over in her mind and her throat filled with revulsion. She'd killed pureblood witches and wizards tonight. They'd crossed a line. Not only were they killing the tainted ones, but their supporters too. They were headed toward war.

The Dark Lord looked at her. "What is it, Bellatrix? Why do you have tears in your eyes?"

Belatrix was shocked at how easily the smile of blank adoration enveloped her lips. "It is your laughter, my Lord." She lied through her teeth. She'd been so eager for power. To do anything for power. But now…

"My children!" The Dark Lord roared. Bellatrix jumped at the sound. "Listen to me! From now on, Bellatrix shall be my right hand! Her words are my words, her blood my blood. Disobey her, and it shall be as though you disobeyed me. I have spoken." and with that, he disappeared in a burst of dark dust.

Bellatrix stood, numb, as the others watched her. She was truly Lady Death now. This should have been the happiest day of her life. But it wasn't. And that was a dangerous thing to know.


End file.
